


Gwendolyn of the Shadows

by sidewinder



Series: The Spaces in Between [15]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Community: lover100, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode s10e22: Zebras, Established Relationship, F/M, Homicide: Life on the Street references, M/M, Past Relationship(s), conflicting canon resolved, or at least I tried (again)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6051226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John asks a favor of Fin, who learns a few things about John's past in the process. </p><p>(Episode tag for "Zebras".)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gwendolyn of the Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of my attempts to (sort of) resolve conflicting canon surrounding John and his history, between _Homicide:Life on the Street_ and _SVU_. This time, specifically, the difference in characterization between how we saw Gwen on _Homicide_ (in the episode "All is Bright") and then in "Zebras". 
> 
> Characters property of NBC/Dick Wolf. Written purely for fun and not for profit. As usual for my stories in this series, they do not necessarily need to be read in order, but they exist in the same timeline & universe in my head. There is a slight tip of the hat at the end to a classic Munch/Fin story by another author, see end notes for credit.

“Stucky. I still can’t believe it.” John shook his head, expressing the same lingering disbelief Fin felt at that moment, that he’d felt since the news had hit the bullpen several hours ago. Olivia’s call from the forensics lab had set off a frenzy of activity with the arrest of CSU tech Dale Stucky, and then the grim reality of processing a crime scene where one of their own had been a homicide victim. John and Fin were finally trying to catch their breaths and gather their bearings, standing together by the squadroom’s coffee station as the bedlam surrounding them slowly began to subside.

“I know, man. Can’t believe he killed all those people,” Fin said, half-numb from everything that had gone down over the past few days. O’Halloran, that nice guy in forensics, was now dead, for no reason other than doing his job properly. Peter Harrison’s attorney was also dead, for trying to do _her_ job and provide even the criminally insane like her client fair representation. And that poor woman at Coney Island had been murdered for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She would no doubt still be alive if he and John hadn’t lost Harrison at the amusement park yesterday—thereby giving Stucky opportunity and reason to claim his first victim.

On top of it all, Judge Donnelly and Elliot were in the hospital and could have been killed, too, all because _Dale-fucking-Stucky_ couldn’t take being called out for his damn mistakes on the job. “I always knew the guy was an idiot, but a killer, too?” Fin continued. “How the hell did he pass psych testing and manage to land a job at CSU in the first place?”

“I’m sure IAB will be asking those very same questions soon, if they aren’t already. Of course, sometimes a person can just snap like that, go completely over the edge out of nowhere.”

“With no warning whatsoever? I don’t know if I can believe that.”

“It can happen.” Fin noticed John’s focus drift to the nearby conference room, its door currently closed and still under guard by a uniformed officer. The room had been commandeered as a safe space for two others they’d believed to be targeted by Harrison but who were in fact, they knew now, the next potential victims of Dale Stucky instead.

Professor Rodzinski had been exceedingly helpful throughout all of the investigation, and more than willing to remain in police protective custody until the situation was resolved. Their other “guest” that afternoon, however, had been far less agreeable toward the police. It was a blessed miracle she’d stopped screaming and yelling obscenities at them all, and most particularly at Fin’s partner.

“Gwendolyn of the Shadows,” or so she called herself. Gwen _Munch_ , as John knew her, and as Fin now had the distinct displeasure of having met her for the first time.

If Gwen proved to be any indication of what John’s other ex-wives were like, Fin hoped there’d never be reason he’d have to deal with any of _them_ in the future. One was more than enough.

Fin kept his comments on John’s past taste in women to himself, however, as he noticed Cragen walking over to join them. “Captain, any word on Elliot?” Fin asked.

Don nodded. “I just got off the phone with Olivia, she’s with him at Mercy. He’s going to be fine, his injuries were mostly superficial. A few stitches and he’ll be going home with Kathy soon. Olivia’s already given her statement to Homicide and they’ll be taking over the case from here on out.”

“That’s good news all around,” John said. “So what about our guests under protection here, the professor and Gwen?”

“They can both go home. CSU and the bomb squad went back over each of their apartments with a fine-toothed comb, knowing now that one of our own was responsible for planting the syringe that almost killed Donnelly. I got an update a few minutes ago that they’ve again found no signs of anything dangerous or suspicious at either's residence.” The captain picked up the coffee pot and filled his mug; no doubt he still had a long night ahead of him, even with another division taking over the investigation. “Seems as though Stucky got himself caught before he could rig any death traps for Rodzinski or Gwen. Or he might have even been planning his next move to take place here at the precinct, after we brought them both in. I suppose we’ll know more soon enough. Regardless, those two are free to go home now, with the department’s thanks for their cooperation.”

“You want us to take care of that?” John said.

“It’s what I was coming over to ask. And then you both need to call it a night. It’s been too long of a week already around here—and to think, it’s only Wednesday.”

“Hear you on that,” Fin said. As Cragen walked off, Fin turned to John. “I’ll take providing chauffeur service over having to write up _this_ damn report. Though you might need to get the riot gear before dealing with your ex again.”

“I know.” John’s expression and voice were both grim. He hadn’t been acting himself since yesterday, since he’d first proposed meeting up with “Gwendolyn of the Shadows” as a means of locating Harrison. Fin hadn’t known until after the fact that the woman was John’s ex-wife and not merely some random lunatic he knew from all those conspiracy-related websites he frequented.

John hadn’t wanted to talk about it after their meeting last night, either, save to give Fin the information he’d gotten from her about Harrison’s secret hideout.And from there, the rest of that evening had turned into a complete mess as Fin and Elliot nearly got themselves killed, thanks to Harrison’s chemical booby trap.

At least it was all over now, save for taking home these two. Fin would be more than happy to never see Gwen again, but not due to any feelings of jealousy. He simply didn’t like the woman for the effect she clearly had on the man he loved and cared about.

“Fin, could I ask a huge favor of you? Could you take Gwen home, while I deal with the professor?”

Fin frowned. “Crazy lady’s _your_ ex-wife, not mine.”

“And that’s why I’m the last person she wants to see or cooperate with right now. Among other reasons.” John placed his hand on Fin’s shoulder. “Please?” he asked, “I don’t want to make her more upset. She’s fragile enough already and I think simply _seeing_ me has made her condition worse.”

“John...”

“Do it for me. Make sure she gets home safe. Check her place one more time, if she’ll let you in? I trust you more than I trust CSU at this point.”

Fin wanted to protest further, but John’s quietly pleading expression kept him silent. He didn’t like being around crazy people, especially crazy people who clearly were messing with his lover’s head the way Gwen was. But he also couldn’t refuse John on a personal matter like this, not when he’d gotten John tied up in his own messy past with _his_ ex-wife Teresa before. “All right. I’ll do it...for you. Not for her.”

“Thank you.” John gave Fin’s shoulder a light squeeze, his expression softening in obvious relief and gratitude. It was as much affection as they’d share in the public forum of the squadroom, particularly amid the turmoil of the moment. “I’ll get Rodzinski home and give his place another run-through as well.”

“Okay, I’ll call you when I’m finished up. I’ll get Gwen first, so if you want to take cover for a few minutes, be my guest.”

John smirked, although the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “One warning? Watch your back. Despite it all, she’s always had a thing for cops.”

“Oh, great.”

* * *

Gwen barely said a word to Fin the entire ride from the precinct to her apartment, which was perfectly fine with him. She only sat there, staring bug-eyed and straight ahead into the traffic, hands tightly clutching the small purse which had been the only personal possession she’d been allowed to bring with her to the 16th.

“When we get to your building and if you don’t mind, I’d like to escort you inside and take one last look around,” Fin explained when they were only a block away, trying to put on his best calming voice and demeanor. “Just to make sure the bomb squad didn’t miss anything.”

“Sure. Right. As if I have any choice in the matter?”

“You could tell me no. But John asked me to make sure you were safe.”

“ _John_.” She spit out his name as if it were poison, but said nothing more. Fin bit his tongue and rather _hoped_ she wouldn’t let him up to see her place. The faster he got away from Gwen, the happier he would be.

He parked across the street from the old brownstone where she lived and turned off the car headlights and engine. She seemed surprised when they stopped there, and made no immediate move to get out. “Ain’t this your place?” Fin asked, double-checking the Lower East Side address he had written down.

“Yes...”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You mean you’re not going to disappear me?”

Fin frowned, not sure what the hell she was talking about. “Listen, ma’am—” he wasn’t going to call her ‘Mrs. Munch’, because as far as he was concerned she didn’t even deserve to share a last name with John, “—I don’t know what you’ve got going on in that head of yours, but I’m just here to drive you home and check your place for booby traps one last time. It’s late, I’m tired, it’s been a lousy day and a friend of mine is dead. I want to go home myself. So can we get a move on it? Then you don’t need to see me or John or anyone about this ever again, all right?”

“Hmph!”

With that she opened the car door, got out and crossed the street, glancing warily in all directions as she hurried to the building entrance. Fin sighed, got out and locked his car, following after her.

The building was typical for the area, with a first floor commercial space housing an art gallery, and Gwen’s apartment on the fourth, top floor of the walk-up. “I’ll give you _five minutes_ and I’m not letting you out of my sight,” she hissed at Fin as she unlocked the first, then the second, then the third lock on her apartment door.

Fin braced himself for whatever might be lurking behind that well-secured barrier to the outside world. He’d seen plenty in his years on the force but one never knew what to expect in a person’s private dwelling. She turned on the lights and the state of Gwen’s apartment proved about what he would expect given her mental condition: one part hoarder’s hovel, one part paranoid schizophrenic’s mental chaos, a third part flower-child fashion and decor turned horror movie nightmare.

“Oh, I _knew_ they’d make a mess of everything. I _knew_ it!” She stomped about angrily, spinning in dizzying circles of nervous energy.

“Somehow I doubt CSU did all of this.” Fin tried to step carefully between piles of old newspapers, teetering boxes of books, and other things he didn’t want to examine too closely because he didn’t need to know. And he thought _John’s_ place could be a mess? The mental image of the two of them ever sharing a residence together was frightening.

“Oh they did it, they did it,” Gwen muttered, picking up one pile of papers and shuffling through them quickly, then moving them to a new place on top of the boxes stacked on one chair. “I know what they did. Looking through all of my _things_. Trying to frame Peter and set up all of us. Surveillance equipment...” Her wide eyes glanced up toward the ceiling, looking for things that weren’t there. “I’m going to have to go through everything, _everything_ , looking for their bugs.”

 _Only bugs ’round here are the roaches,_ Fin thought, but kept to himself. This was hopeless; there was no way he could do anything more than CSU had already done to inspect this mess for booby traps. So he merely looked around, trying not to touch or disturb anything while Gwen appeared distracted, fretting over anything she believed misplaced or potentially missing.

Fin moved toward the bathroom, flicked on the light, and looked around. At least this small room was relatively clean and uncluttered. He opened the cabinet over the sink and found it empty, save for typical feminine cosmetic products. There were no medicine bottles anyone could have swapped out or poisoned, so that was at least something he could check off his mental list.

“I don’t believe in taking pills, if that’s what you’re looking for,” Gwen said, startling Fin by suddenly standing right behind him.

“I can tell.”

“The government controls the pharmaceutical companies, you know. Poisons us so they can control our minds, so we won’t see the truth of what’s happening all around us.”

“If you say so, lady.” Fin turned around and she stepped back in his looming presence. He brushed past her and moved on to the bedroom. Or at least, he supposed there had to be a bed under the piles of clothes and laundry, and yet more stacks of books and papers. He did what he could to check the windows, radiator, and electrical sockets (that were visible and not buried in the clutter, at least) for signs of tampering but could find nothing worth investigating further.

“So you’re John’s partner,” Gwen said after a minute’s silence.

“Yep. Almost nine years now.”

“Mmmm. I saw you at the bookstore, last night. Saw you follow John out after he left. I thought you were tailing him. I was so worried...I tried calling him, tried to warn him about you, but he wouldn’t answer his phone. And now I know you were both out to set Peter and me up.”

“We didn’t do nothing to set up nobody. Peter’s a sick man. He almost killed me.”

“And you thought he was trying to kill _me_ and I told the police he wouldn't. He’d never hurt me. It was one of _you_ who tried to do that!”

“And that man is in jail now and Peter is, too. So you’re gonna have to find some other crazy person to be the hero of your little online community of paranoids.”

“No one can replace Peter. And you wait, we’re not going to take his arrest and this baseless persecution by the police sitting down.”

“If you say so.” Fin wasn’t about to argue with her. He was more than ready to get the hell out of her apartment when he spied one item that caused him to stop and take a closer look: a framed photo sitting on the dresser in a surprisingly clutter-free spot. It almost took him a moment to recognize the much younger John in the photograph, all long hair and oversized glasses, standing arm in arm with an impressively non-crazy looking, younger version of Gwen. From his tuxedo and her fancy dress it was clearly a wedding photo.

Fin had to smile a little bit at the sight of it. The only image he’d ever seen of John from his much younger days was that nude photograph that had caused him so much embarrassment down in Baltimore—an image which Fin had then tried his best to burn from his memory cells.

He looked away from the picture and found Gwen’s eyes, of course, following his every move and interest. “Cute photo,” he said sincerely.

“We were happy. Once. It didn’t last for very long.” She swept a few things off the edge of the bed—so there was one under there—and sat down on it. “Do you know...is John seeing anyone these days?”

This was _not_ territory Fin was willing to cross into with Gwen. “Uh, I think he might be in a relationship, yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Not really my business.”

“I see.” She played with her rings on one hand, spinning them around fretfully with the fingers of her other. Glancing up through her tousled curls, she said, “You know, you’re kind of cute. Are you seeing anyone?”

Nope, this territory was riddled with land mines, but not the kind placed by Dale Stucky. It was _definitely_ time to get the hell out of here. “Yes I am. Someone I love very much.”

“Oh well. Can’t blame a girl for trying.” She gave him a flirtatious smile. Fin swallowed and prepared to make a very hasty exit.

“Anyway, you’re good, so I’m getting out of your way. You find anything suspicious, you call the police right away, okay?” After a brief pause, he did reach into his inner jacket pocket to pull out one of his cards. “That’s my direct number if you don’t want to call 911, or anyone else.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Fin took a deep breath and headed toward the front door as quickly as he politely could.

“Detective Tutuola?”

Fin paused and turned back around.

“Please take care of John, for me?”

Fin nodded. “Every day of my life. I promise you that.”

* * *

Fin called John once he was back outside and in his car, to let him know everything had been taken care of.

_“Great. Thanks, Fin. I’m leaving the professor’s apartment right now myself.”_

“Home or dinner somewhere?” Fin asked, checking his watch. Nine-fifteen, not too late considering the hours they often kept.

_“Home. Do you mind heading up to my place tonight? I’ll probably get there before you since I’m uptown, unless you want to call a rain check.”_

“No, that’s cool.” They usually spent more weeknights at Fin’s place, being a quicker trip to and from work, but he could understand John wanting the night at home tonight.

_“I can pick up Chinese at Golden Palace if you want anything.”_

“Yeah. Sesame chicken and fried rice. Don’t—”

 _“—forget the fortune cookies. See you soon.”_ Fin grinned at their running joke as he hung up and then pulled out Delancey Street.

He parked not far from John’s place some forty minutes later, stomach rumbling and letting him know he hadn’t eaten all day and that he needed to rectify that situation soon. He let himself in to John’s apartment, finding the lights on, the stereo playing some quiet jazz, and John on the sofa already chopsticks deep into his dinner.

“Didn’t wait for me?”

“You know I hate it when the mei fun gets cold and gummy.”

Fin made himself comfortable, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket. He then went in the kitchen to grab a beer (if any were left, thankfully yes) before joining John on the sofa and attacking his own dinner with enthusiasm.

“No news tonight?” Fin asked, nodding toward the silent and dark television set.

“Figured we had enough of it at work today.”

Fin couldn’t argue.

“So no problems with Gwen?”

“Nope.”

“Thank you for handling that for me.”

“No big deal. Everything you’ve helped me with, Teresa and Ken...how about we figure we’re even.”

“I’ll accept that proposition.”

They ate in silence, which was fine with Fin although he could tell John was still off his usual game. He didn’t press the matter, though, not while they finished dinner—which didn’t take long given how hungry Fin was. When they were done he took the leftovers and the trash into the kitchen to handle clean-up. He also put some water on the stove to make a cup of tea for John while he finished the last of his beer. John hadn’t asked for it, but Fin knew by now when he could use one. Chamomile, no caffeine, because he wanted to help John relax, not get him more wired up late at night.

John had stretched out on the sofa by the time Fin came back out into the living room, but he sat up with an expression of happy surprise as Fin put the mug down in front of him.

“Thanks.”

“Thought you could use it.” Fin sat down next to John, massaging his back gently and pulling him close for a kiss on the cheek. “I like taking care of you. When you let me. Gwen asked me to make sure I did that.”

“Did she?”

“She did.”

John clasped the warm mug in his hands and raised an eyebrow at Fin. “She say anything else you care to share with me at this point in time?”

“Not really. Mostly more of the same crap from earlier. Though you were right about one thing.”

“What?”

“She wanted to know if I was single.”

John shook his head and smiled wearily. “It’s almost a relief to know at least _some_ things about Gwen haven’t changed.”

“You saying she wasn’t always a card carrying member of the lunatic fringe?”

“Well, Gwen was always a little... _quirky_.” John settled in closer to Fin, getting comfortable as he pulled his legs up on the sofa. “But when we first met, she was fun, not paranoid. Sharp. Exceptionally well-read. Her mother was a literary critic of some reputation, Gwen always liked to brag. Later on we both found out that reputation wasn’t a particularly kind one, although I wasn’t surprised to learn that. Her mother was, quite honestly, a miserable excuse for a human being. No one was ever going to be good enough for her Gwen, especially not  some loser cop like me.

“After Gwen filed for divorce she blew out of Baltimore and landed in New York. Took a nice chunk of my money to open a little cafe trying to cater to the intelligentsia, play up on her wanna-be pretensions as an _artiste_. I lost contact with her for a while after that, until her mother died. She wanted help with the arrangements, so who better to turn to than the ex-husband whose brother is a mortician.”

“Speaking of your brother, am I ever going to get to meet Bernie?”

“If you’re lucky not until the day I die. And whatever you do, don’t let the bastard talk you into the deluxe bereavement package.” John paused for a sip of his tea. “Anyway, I can’t say for sure but I think something snapped in Gwen, after her mother died. She was an only child and that woman pampered her for so long, built this enchanted fantasy up all around her and suddenly the illusion of it all was gone.

“Couple years later, I moved to New York myself. I stopped by to see her, see how see how she was making out, let her know where I was in case she ever needed anything. I could barely recognize her. She’d always been into radical interests and protesting—that’s how we met, after all—but suddenly she was hooking up with groups and people that even _I_ thought were nuts. They only seemed to be making her paranoia and anxiety worse. She’d lost her business by then and spent her time doing nothing but talking with these people online and building up this crazy dark world in her head...that’s why I spent time on some of those sites myself, to keep an eye on her, actually. But...after a while I realized I couldn’t help her if she refused to help herself.”

“Like a junkie.”

“Only she needed to be _on_ drugs, not get off of them.”

They both fell quiet for a few minutes, John drinking his tea, Fin continuing to massage John’s back. “You still love her?” Fin asked.

“I still care about her, and I hate seeing the way she is now. But the Gwen I loved years ago is long gone, I know that. And I know she’s never coming back.”

“Sad.”

“It is.” John put his mug down on the coffee table and turned to Fin. “But no, I don’t still love her. You’re the only one I care about that way.”

“I wasn’t doubting that,” Fin said, but he didn’t object to John’s kiss that followed, proving his point. He never objected to those kisses nor the touch of John’s hands, the way he expressed his love so passionately when they were together. His touch right now spoke of urgency and the need for his own reassurance that things were okay between them—which he never should have reason to doubt. Certainly not over someone from a long distant past, a ghost briefly coming out from the shadows before disappearing once again from their lives.

Disappearing hopefully for a long time, if not for good.

“Let’s go to bed,” John urged, and Fin agreed without hesitation.

That night they made love slowly, tenderly, the way they did when it wasn’t so much about physical release but soothing the soul, healing the heart. All about deep kisses and lingering touches, hands caressing and bodies pressed together in all the familiar and perfect ways. Face to face, mouth to mouth, grinding and moving against one another until release came in cresting waves that finally pulled them both under, one and then the other.

Neither spoke nor made any effort to move for some time afterward, not even to clean up the inevitable remnants of their activities. Death hitting too close to home, or being too close of a call for either of them, always brought home how important it was to never take what they had together for granted. Fin knew he could have died last night, if Elliot hadn’t moved fast to get him out of that basement and away from Harrison’s toxic chemical trap. And somewhere tonight, friends and family were grieving for Ryan O’Halloran, trying to accept the reality that he was gone and never coming back to them.

Fin imagined ever getting that call himself, that grim visit from the police he always hated having to make to others, and he pulled John even tighter against him. Some days he might not understand quite why, and other days he might wonder if he himself had gone mad to feel this way, but he loved this man in his arms with all that he had and could no longer imagine life without him being part of it.

“Breathing would be nice,” John complained, and Fin lightened his embrace—just a little bit.

“Sorry.”

“It’s one thing to have a crush, another thing to crush my internal organs,” John said, though he did follow his words with a kiss, and settled then into a more comfortable position against Fin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know. Neither am I.”

“Good.”

Fin tugged at the blankets that had been kicked aside earlier, pulling them up over both of their bodies. He was perfectly warm with nothing but John beside him, but he knew his lover tended to get colder in the night—and he didn’t need to wake up in the morning to icicle feet and hands shocking him in all-too sensitive areas.

“Maybe I need a cool screen name or something,” Fin pondered aloud, his mind drifting here and there, for once his thoughts keeping him awake after sex while John was quickly drifting toward sleep.

“Whassat?”

“I’ll give her this much: ‘Gwendolyn of the Shadows’ is a pretty sweet handle. I need something more unique than just ‘Fin’ for when I post on my gaming boards and shit.”

“We are not talking about Gwen after sex. We are not talking about Gwen ever again,” John mumbled against Fin’s neck.

“All right. Sorry.” Fin closed his eyes and tried to put his thoughts to rest.

“I guess 'Tutuola the Gentle One' doesn’t sound menacing enough when you’re discussing battling orcs and conquering territories. What’s the meaning behind Odafin? I know you told me once.”

“Maker of laws.”

“Right. So, the ‘Gentle Lawmaker’, huh? It does suit you, but sadly I don’t think it makes for a memorable screenname.”

“Love is the only law I’m interested in making ’round here,” Fin said, giving John's backside a small squeeze.

“Now that’s got a catchy ring to it: ‘Love is the Law’.”

“Yeah, I think you're right.”

“I’m also dead tired, Fin. So can we put this discussion to bed already and get some sleep?”

Fin smiled to himself and agreed softly, “Okay,” not one to argue with John on that point tonight. Because love _was_ the law between them, and it was one he would gladly enforce for as long as he had John at his side.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have to give credit to Melody Clark for "Love is the Law", the title of one of her two classic Munch/Fin novellas which just came to mind as I was working through this story. If you haven't read it and love Munch & Fin, you definitely need to seek it out!
> 
> This story fulfills the lover100 community prompt for "ghosts".


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